


Remember me for centuries

by starstrucktooru



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, immortal au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 22:59:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12119088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstrucktooru/pseuds/starstrucktooru
Summary: “So I asked her if this was her doing. She said yes. And I asked her what can I do to stop it. She said-“ he stops to take a deep breath, a pained expression crossing on his face “she said that it’s a curse. I will live until my soulmate remembers his past lives.”Hajime’s eyes slowly widen in realization.“ And me, still young and stupid, thought that everything would be fine; I would go to my boyfriend and he will remember everything, and our lives will go back to normal. Another big mistake.” He barks a laugh, short and self-loathing.“ He remembered nothing."





	Remember me for centuries

**Author's Note:**

  * For [teacu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacu/gifts).



> I've been procrastinating writing this for such a long time, and now I'm so glad I finished it! I never thought I'd ever write angst, but here we are, and I'm so anxious about it, so if you can, please give me some feedback on how I should improve, it would mean a lot!  
> This one goes to my dearest beta reader without whom I would've never finished this. Thank you so much for everything you've done for me!

Beads of sweat are rolling down his forehead and he struggles to wipe them off with his sleeve without toppling over the big cardbox he's holding. He finally puts it down, gruntling, and rolls his shoulder, which gives a little _pop_ in retaliation.

“Good“, Hajime thinks to himself, “one more down _”, he sighs_ , “half to go.”

He turns around and looks over the attic, trying to find some lighter boxes to carry, when he spots it.

“Huh? What’s this?”

He takes a few steps towards it, the floor planks squeaking underneath his feet when he crouches down to examine it.

 _A_ chest _? How did it even get here? Did the previous owners leave it here?_

He surely doesn’t remember it being up there, and he’s sure he would remember carrying something that looks like coming straight out of a pirate movie. Ah, the joys of spring cleaning and finding things you never knew you owned.

He nudges it a bit with his foot, eyebrows lifting in surprise as he hears an abundance of muffled _clank_ ’s and _thump_ ’s. He tries to open it and has to bury his face in his shirt, coughing, as a cloud of dust rises up and around him.  As it settles down, he brushes the dust off his shoulders ( _remember to wash the shirt asap_ ) and peers into the chest.

There is an abundance of clothing that looks like it all came from different countries, even different periods of times, some from a distant, yet other from a recent time. He discovers books and letters that smell of perfume, jewelry, lockets and pocket watches, and suddenly a strong feeling of nostalgia pangs his heart. Just as he is getting ready to close the chest, something catches his eye.

_A book? But why is it hidden from the rest of the piles?_

He shuffles through the chest, carefully moving a small pile of clothing, and books and letters that lie atop of it, some of them looking so fragile he has to think they’ve lasted for centuries, and there it is. It doesn’t look too old, but he still lifts it up carefully, and puts it on his lap. The lighting is a bit dim, as he is in the corner of the attic, but he can still make out the the two words written in cursive on the book’s shabby cover. _Photo album._

 _That makes sense,_ he thinks to himself. _These are just costumes and theater props. Gotta give them credit, though. These are awesome._

Curiously, he opens it, expecting to find pictures of actors in action, in the limelight of the stage and, who knows? Maybe this belonged to some famous person and he and Oikawa could sell it and get themselves loads of mone- Hajime’s eyebrows scrunch in a mix of shock and disbelief, as he stares at the photo in front of him. It looks very old, like one of those first photographs you can find in museums, like someone has viewed it countless of times, rumpled at the edges and page almost falling off. But it’s not the age of the photo that surprises him most, it’s the presence of the two men on it. They’re sitting on the grass, one with lighter hair styled in locks, slightly ruffled from the wind, but he pays it no mind as he gazes at the other with a loving smile on his face, and Hajime could put his arm in the fire that the man is Oikawa’s ancestor, hell, even Oikawa himself. The other one’s leaning slightly on the Oikawa-looking man, oblivious to the gaze of his friend ( _or lover_ , Hajime thinks), and Hajime snickers as he thinks _and that one looks exactly like me._ It takes him a moment to realize what he’s just thought, and then he feels his heart pumping faster, can hear his heartbeat pulsing through his body. Hajime gulps around the lump in his throat. _This can’t be us. This picture is hundreds years old and I certainly don’t remember this picture being taken. It can’t be._

With shaky hands he turns the page only to be greeted with pictures of the two same men, and suddenly the whole room starts spinning around him.

He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. _Don’t be irrational. There has to be an explanation for this. Maybe Oikawa photoshopped these?? Yeah, he probably wants to use this as a prank. That must be it._

If he says it enough times in his head he’ll maybe believe it.

He stands up and puts the album away on one of the boxes, deciding to deal with it later, when he can think rationally.

* * *

 

An hour later, after Oikawa _insists_ he needn’t any help with cleaning the basement, Hajime takes a shower and goes to sit on the couch in the living room. He turns the tv on just out of habit, and, with a pounding heart and shaky palms, he opens the album again.

Now that he calmed down and his mind is clear, he starts to think about everything. The men on the pictures are a spitting image of them, and it’s too much of a resemblance to say the men are just their ancestors. But even if it really are them on the pictures how could it even be possible? When he looks at the pictures closely, he can actually notice that Oikawa always looks the same on each of them. It is the dark-haired man is always changing. Be it in the slight change in the shape of his jaw, his posture, or the way he smiles, but he could always differentiate them. The core was the same, yet on every photo there is something that is, Hajime can’t quite put a finger on it, unique to every one of the dark-haired men. And why does Oikawa never change? Why-

“You finally found it, huh?”

Strong arms wrap around him and Hajime tenses for a moment before recognizing the scent of Oikawa’s shampoo, and relaxes into the latter’s arms. He gives a big sigh, not looking up from the album, stroking the last page with his thumb instead, the page with the most recent photo. He couldn’t help but wonder how big of an age difference is between this and the first photo. The first one that looks as if it’s been through at least a couple of centuries, and the last one that looks almost modern.

By now they shifted, Hajime’s head on Oikawa’s chest, who has his back against the armrest and his arms still wrapped around Hajime’s waist, softly stroking his sides.

“I guess it would be stupid to ask you if- I don’t even know how to start.”

Tooru kisses his forehead gently, his hand brushing the hair from his forehead and dropping to Hajime’s side again, and answers in a soft whisper.

“Tell me what you want to know.”

A moment passes before Hajime dares to ask, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Is this- is this really us?”

“Yeah” another whisper comes in reply.

“But- But it can’t be! Some of these look like they’re hundreds of years old. This can’t be us! Maybe a relative, yeah, but-“

He stops when he feels his lover gently brush his thumb up and down his arm in an attempt to soothe him. Tooru softly shakes his head and noses the back of Hajime’s neck. His hair is tickling Hajime and giving him shivers, and the raven can only give a tired sigh in response, going pliant against Tooru’s chest.

“Then… how?”

“I’ll explain everything”, answers back the other sigh, a sad lilt in his voice, and Hajime can clearly feel the weariness in his lover’s tone.

They move to sit on the floor, the album carefully spread in between them, and Hajime has never seen Tooru this worried. He’s rubbing his trembling hands against his thighs, anxiously looking at the album, and Hajime wants to somehow console the other, to whisper comforting words to him, when the brunet beats him to it.

“You’ know I’d never lie to you about this, right? You’ll believe me?”

Leaning over a bit on his legs, Hajime brushes Tooru’s hair from his forehead and, gently cupping the brunet’s face in his hands, gingerly presses his lips against Tooru’s.

_I’m here. It’s okay. You’re safe. I love you. I’m here for you._

When they break apart, Hajime doesn’t move his hands from Tooru’s cheeks, who has his eyes averted to the side, still unsure, and soothingly rubs his thumb against it.

“Hey. Love, look at me”, he whispers, nudging Tooru’s nose with his, and Tooru obliges.

“First, I need you to take deep breaths for me, okay, love? You’re fine, we’re fine, don’t worry. Of course I’ll believe you. Hell, I’d believe you even if you tell me you’re a sparkling fairy vampire, and I’d still love you the same.”

Oikawa lets a little chuckle at that and drops his head. He looks at Hajime’s hand soothingly rubbing circles on his knee, and that must’ve done the thing, because Hajime can hear him take a deep breath, and then he’s back up, looking determinately at Hajime.

“Okay, I can do this.”

Hajime squeezes his knee in support and smiles at him, finally leaning back.

“That’s my Tooru.”

“Okay so, long time ago- really, _really_ , long time ago, I was young and stupid. Pretty stupid.”  
“Even more than now?”

Sigh. “Yes, Iwa-chan, even more than now.”

“Damn”, Hajime pretended to be surprised, which earned him a playful eyeroll from Oikawa.

“So, young and stupid. It was a very tough time and many people were on the street, you know, begging for money.” He fidgets a bit, before continuing.

“One day I was in a hurry, nervous as hell because I was already pretty darn late, when this woman started begging me for help. She was very persistent and I didn’t have the time to deal with her, so I told her some really rude stuff to try to get her off my back. That’s when she started getting angry. She told me how I will never be happy again, how I am doomed to live a lonely, pathetic life forever, and me being young and stupid, didn’t take it seriously.

But, honestly, c’mon, who would’ve taken seriously a threat from a dirty old lady, right? Big mistake. I had a boyfriend at that time-“

“Wait, you had a boyfriend I don’t know about? And how come you’ve never told me about this old woman?”

“There’s an _explanation_ , Iwa-chan. Jeez, at least let me finish the story!”

“Alright, alright, just hurry up. You’re killing me here.”

“As I said, I had a boyfriend back then, whom I had loved him like I’ve never loved anyone, and we were the same age. Some time passed and I noticed that he, and everyone around me, was getting older, like, you could see the physical changes on everybody. Well, everybody except me. And I wasn’t the only one who noticed. People always asked me how I managed to look the same as I did a couple of years ago, how I managed to keep looking so youthful-“

“Okay, now you’re just bragging.”

“I can not finish this, you know.”

“Sorry.”

“So, something clicked in my head and I _knew_ it had something to do with that old woman. I just knew.”

Hajime can now hear a soft tremble in his voice, his heart starting to thump faster.

“ So I went back to the place I had met her, and of course she wasn’t there, but I asked around and eventually found her. She wasn’t surprised at all, like she knew I would need her again.

“So I asked her if this was her doing. She said yes. And I asked her what can I do to stop it. She said-“ he stops to take a deep breath, a pained expression crossing on his face “she said that it’s a curse. I will live until my soulmate remembers his past lives.”

Hajime’s eyes slowly widen in realization.

“ And me, still young and stupid, thought that everything would be fine; I would go to my boyfriend and he will remember everything, and our lives will go back to normal. Another big mistake.” He barks a laugh, short and self-loathing.

“ He remembered _nothing_. He tried, we both tried, but nothing worked.

“I knew nothing good will come out of us staying together. I knew I would just be a burden. He still had a chance of meeting someone new, still had a chance of living a normal life, and have a normal relationship. So I had done the best thing I could’ve done for his future. I broke up with him. And for all these years, these centuries, I’ve waited, and waited, and _waited_ for my soulmate, for _you_ , to remember everything, to remember me; Hell I would’ve been ecstatic even if you remembered a couple of seconds but… it never happened.”

His voice is now completely lost in hiccups, hot tears spilling on his cheeks.

“I was lonely, Hajime. I was so lonely.”

Hajime wants to say something, anything, to console him, but his voice fails him, so he does the only thing he can do in that moment. Leaping forwards, he envelops Tooru in a hug, holding him tightly as the latter quietly weeps and lets out the centuries-old pain he’s been holding inside, and Hajime can feel his own tears brimming over.

* * *

The next few days they’re trying to get back on the track, but it’s hard when you can cut the tension and anxiety with a knife. It’s like they’re both holding back; Tooru’s putting on his distance as if not to put pressure on Hajime to remember, and Hajime’s guilt is eating him from inside every time Oikawa gives him a soft smile, like he’s saying _I understand, it’s not your fault, just… let me heal again._

Secretly, whenever Tooru is out, Hajime takes the album with him and wraps himself in some of Tooru’s old clothes, asking, _begging_ , his mind to remember, with no avail. One evening Tooru finds him hunched over the kitchen table, wrapped in a blanket, dozing off in front of the album. He gently brushes his lover’s hair from his forehead, and softly kisses him, before tucking him in bed.

* * *

 

The day is fresh, a haven after many uncomfortably warm days, the air tinted with something promising. The breeze outside is crispy, but cozy, the sunrays slithering through the blinds don’t hurt Hajime’s eyes, bathing him in a safe warmth instead, and he feels peaceful as he sets his feet on the fuzzy carpet. Hajime’s heart starts beating faster, but in a sunny, bright way, and he can feel it- _it’s the day._

With an excited, wobbly smile on his face, he takes the album in his hands, his fingers tingling, like fireworks under his skin, looking at the cover he’s become so familiar with over the days and goes to look for Tooru.

Instead, he’s met with a sticky note on the fridge. Tooru’s left for groceries (we’re out of… everything.. again! Be back soon <3), but Hajime doesn’t let it discourage him. He lays back in the bed, and with shaky hands, reveals the first photo, the one with the two of them sitting in the grass.

_Nothing._

He releases a breath he never knew he was holding, and, with a pang in his chest, continues to look at the other pictures.

_It’s okay, you’re fine. You’re letting your feelings cloud your mind. Calm down._

But it’s not fine. The more he’s looking, the more his head is hurting and his heart is ripping apart. Could he have been wrong? Is it possible that, after all, he can’t remember a single _goddamn_ thing? Is this all for naught? He sniffles, trying to keep the tears from spilling, and further into the album he goes, further his heart sinks.

_Come on, you useless shit, remember it, I know you can. Come **on**._

He’s at the last photo, tears completely clouding his vision, when – _click_. _He’s got it._

It’s the photo of them in front of a cinema, waiting to watch the projection of the Godzilla movie.

_The first projection of the first Godzilla movie ever._

_He’s got it._

It’s their first date. He remembers Tooru’s face when he asked him out, he remembers the feel of his palm against Tooru’s, the feel of Tooru’s lips on his own, in the back of the theater where they thought no one could see them.

_Click._

_He remembers. Their first time by the beach, their first festival spent together, Tooru being proud as he watched him graduate at the top of his class; Every kiss, every touch and feel, every intimate look, every laugh and soft smile, every night they curled up together, every hushed whisper, every heartbreak he felt when Oikawa broke up with him._

He chokes on air, tears flowing without stop, but he’s laughing. Everything hurts but it’s alright ‘cause he remembers, and it’s hard to breathe, all these feelings overwhelming him, but he’s laughing. And oh, what a laugh it is. A boisterous, heartily laugh, loving and joyful, and free.

Suddenly, he hears the click of the door and a distant “I’m home”, and he springs up, enveloping Tooru in a crushing hug.

“Woah, are you okay Iwa-chan? Did someth-“ and then he spots the album in his hands. He sighs and rubs his fingers on Hajime’s back.

“Hey, I told you it’s okay, you don’t have to push yourself, love.”

“No, no no no. Tooru. I _remember_ ”, he says and smiles at Tooru like he’s never smiled before.

“You- are you serious?”

“ _Yes_. I remember it. Everything.” He shows him the last photo. “See. Here. You took me out to see Godzilla. It was the first projection ever, and you were so nervous when you asked me back at the old man’s diner in the main street. And- God- I remember how happy you looked when I said yes. Even the old man’s face as he watched us from the counter.” He laugh. “He was so happy I finally got a date, he was nudging me to find someone since the first day I met him.” Softly, he brushes Tooru’s tears from his cheeks. “I remember you.”

And then Tooru’s the one crying, clinging to Hajime’s shirt like he’s scared of losing him, like he might suddenly evaporate, ‘cause everything seems so impossible, so ethereal, and he does the only thing he can in that moment, he hugs his lover even tighter and whispers in his ear “I love you I love you I love so much. I’ve always loved you. I’ll always love you.”

And Hajime replies the only thing he can in that moment.

“I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you liked it <3 don't forget to leave kudos and comments~  
> you can find me at minyardxva.tumblr.com or @starstrucktooru on twitter <3


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